The Captain of my Soul
by May Solo
Summary: The USS Enterprise is held hostage by a radical extremist group... please R and R...
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, not mine, blah blah, no money being made, blah blah, I'm just a hapless trekker trying to vent her insanity, etc, blah… Title taken from William Henley's Invictus.  
  
Author's Note: Some of the characters are products of my twisted imagination, but most of them are owned by Paramount.  
  
1 The Captain of My Soul  
  
2 Chapter One  
  
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2.1 Space… The final frontier…  
  
On the Starship Enterprise all was quiet. It was night. The Enterprise was traveling through the stars at warp speed, but in the halls the only indication of their power was the discreet vibration in the walls. Most of the crew was asleep, with the exception of the few crewmembers that came from nocturnal worlds.  
  
On the bridge, the night-watch officers did their duty without much excitement. Because most of the major course changes happened during the day, the only duty of the night watch was to make sure everything ran smoothly in the absence of the main crew. The Engineering station was unmanned. At Communications, Lt Uhura remained in her chair. The Earth holiday of Christmas was rapidly approaching, and many of the crew had greetings to send to their families. Uhura had worked late nearly every night that week in an effort to field all the messages before Christmas. She stopped a moment, leaned back in her chair, stretched her arms and yawned. Only a few more left, and she could go below, take a hot shower, and climb into bed… Uhura smiled at the thought, and turned back to her board.  
  
At the Helm, Lt Ligeia Ford monitored the speed and course of the ship. During the day, she served as librarian and social coordinator. Her duties included dusting and sorting the antique books in the ship's small library. Unfortunately, due to the vast number of volumes stored in the computer, very few people ever had need to enter her corner of the ship. So, just to have something to do, she had volunteered as night-watch helmsman. Lt Ford was always on the lookout for exciting new experiences, and when questioned about her motives for something, she nearly always responded, "It was fun." Being somewhat of a feminist, she had fought hard for the right to wear pants and a tunic as her uniform instead of the standard female Starfleeter's uniform, which she saw as degrading. Consequently, she was the only female on the ship to be wearing a man's duty uniform, but the few people who chose to tease her about being a cross dresser most always had to subsequently report to Dr McCoy for an ice pack to be applied to the eye. Ligeia enjoyed an active imagination. At the moment, she was letting her mind wander to the bottle of Vodka she had smuggled aboard after last shore leave and picturing Pavel's face when he saw it Christmas day. It was, after all, a Russian inwention.  
  
At Navigation, Ensign Malachi Tremont monitored both the course of the ship and the scanners. He'd tied in Spock's science station to his board to give him the ability to monitor both without running across the bridge all night. Tremont was a quiet person, very private, and had few, if any, friends aboard the Enterprise. He was the nervous type, always jumping to conclusions, and very weird. His file said he was Vivalian, from Vivali, but he never offered any information about his past or family. He sported the typical Vivalian features. His long hair fell to his shoulders, framing his pale face. Two red eyes were set opposite a small nose. His handsome features were somewhat interrupted by a long scar beginning beneath the hairline and running nearly to the chin on the left side. He seemed to wear silence like a shroud, adding to the mystery.  
  
Ligeia switched off the classical music she'd been listening to and pulled the silver earpiece from her ear. For some reason, the course numbers she'd been monitoring had vanished from the Helm board. She punched a few buttons, and when there was no response, she kicked the helm hard. At the moment of impact, she saw the digital numbers flash, but then vanish. Damnit, she thought, reluctant to call Engineering this late. She'd had the same problems last night, and after calling an Engineering crewman to the bridge, her console had inexplicably come back to life. They're gonna think I'm crazy! Ligeia sighed, then pulled open the panel below the console and peered in at the wires.  
  
In the middle of a transmission, Uhura's earpiece went dead. She pushed a button in front of her, then another, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't bring her board back to life. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Ligeia Ford on her hands and knees, gazing at the interior of the helm, and cussing softly. Tremont was sitting calmly at his station. "Ensign," she said, addressing him, "Please call Engineering. We seem to be having problems."  
  
Tremont laughed.  
  
The sound startled the two lieutenants. Ligeia banged her head on the panel as she backed up to stare at him. Never in the four months since Tremont had signed on had anyone heard him laughing. More disturbing, Uhura noted, was he hadn't followed her request. "Ensign Tremont, I asked you to call Engineering. Lt Ford and I are experiencing malfunctions. You cannot refuse an order from a superior officer."  
  
"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, I can't follow through. Your stations are not malfunctioning; I have merely taken them over for you. And now I must ask you to come sit down here by me." Tremont said casually.  
  
Uhura stared for a moment. Ligeia replaced the panel and sat back down in her chair slowly. Glancing over at Tremont's station, she saw that he had indeed slaved every Bridge station onto his own panel. "Come on, Malachi, this isn't funny. Give them back," she said.  
  
"Stop this, Tremont. I don't want to have to relieve you," she said, getting angry.  
  
Tremont reached down and produced a phase-pistol. "I'm not joking. And I'm sorry, Miss Uhura, but it looks like I'm the one doing the relieving. Now come sit down here on the floor like a nice girl. I don't want to have to use this." He dramatically switched the setting to kill.  
  
"You wouldn't," Uhura said.  
  
"I would too," said Tremont. He fired, missing Uhura by centimeters. The shot landed on the panel behind her, causing sparks to fly. Both lieutenants jumped, but froze as silence descended.  
  
On every starship, it was well known that alarms would sound at every unauthorized phaser blast.  
  
No alarms sounded now.  
  
As if he had read their thoughts, Tremont said, "There will be no alarms. I shorted them out. No one will know I'm in control until I want them to know. Now, Miss Uhura, please do join us down here. The sparks aren't as pretty when they come from a human."  
  
Uhura numbly walked down to the helm level and approached Tremont. "Now sit on the floor please, and don't move. If you try to contact anybody, or do anything to thwart me, you'll regret it for the rest of your life." He grinned. "About two seconds."  
  
Ligeia stared at him. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, bewildered.  
  
Tremont smiled thinly. "Because, my dear Ligeia, it's fun. And that will have to suffice for now. For the moment, I need you to sit down with Miss Uhura and try not to say anything unless I ask you to." He trained the phaser on Ligeia.  
  
She quietly sat cross-legged on the floor next to Uhura. The two women exchanged glances, wondering just how the hell they were going to get out of this.  
  
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Chapter 2 coming soon. Please R&R! 


	2. The Fell Clutch of Circumstance

The Captain of My Soul  
  
Chapter 2: The Fell Clutch of Circumstance  
  
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In the Deck 7 rec room, Pavel Chekov sat in a corner reading an antique book and silently drinking a glass of synthesized vodka. The author was the old American poet E. A. Poe, translated into Russian and checked out from the ship's library. Reading books had never very much interested Pavel, until Ligeia Ford had signed on. Her vivacious spirit had captivated him since the first day they'd met, and the two quickly became friends. Pavel had found himself drawn more and more to the old dusty corner of the ship where Ligeia spent her days straightening out the labyrinth that the neglected library had become. Poe was one of Ligeia's favorite authors, and after discovering Pavel's desire to become a Starfleet security chief, she'd begun introducing him to mysteries.  
  
"Friends", of course, was an understatement now. They loved each other.  
  
Pavel put down his book and took one last drink of his vodka. I wonder if she'd like a visit? wondered Pavel. He turned towards Turboshaft 1… and walked smack into the closed doors.  
  
It didn't hurt, but a shocked Pavel still grabbed his head. He stared at the doors in puzzlement, then glanced around to make sure no late-returning crewmen had seen his mishap. It would not look good on his record if word got around that a half-drunk Navigator had walked into the Turbolift doors in the middle of the night on his way to pay a visit to his on-duty girlfriend.  
  
Maybe the lift was in use. Pavel stood in front of the lift for a few minutes, then decided the whole affair was ridiculous. He took a brief detour, and slowly approached Turboshaft 2. No cool whish of the doors greeted him. During the day, the Enterprise was such a bustle of activity that it was possible for both lifts to be in use, thus requiring a wait for either. However, during the night, it was extremely rare for a crewman to have to wait on a lift.  
  
The hair on the back of his neck rose. The security guard inside him became aware that something was wrong, but the tired Navigator chose to ignore it. Probably just an equipment malfunction. Their last mission had been tough on the Enterprise. Scotty probably hadn't had time to fix everything. Those Poe stories were really getting to him. Pavel decided to switch back to Tolstoy in the morning.  
  
Turning back the other way, Chekov returned to his quarters and the nice, warm bed that awaited him. The turbolift situation was already out of his mind.  
  
The bridge was terrifyingly quiet. Uhura and Ligeia sat together on the floor, each one wondering what was going to happen. Not fearing for their lives. The two officers had been on enough missions to know that death could come anytime. The women were afraid for the Enterprise and the unknown mission Tremont was using her for.  
  
He hadn't said a word since taking over almost an hour ago. Ligeia, always rebellious of situations she wasn't in control of, was furiously plotting ways to get out of this mess. Unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything plausible. She looked over at Uhura. The other woman's eyes flitted from place to place, never pausing too long in one area of the bridge.  
  
Slowly, quietly, Ligeia raised her right arm, the one closest to the helm. She reached over to the handle on the side of the Navigator's station that released the panel.  
  
Ligeia stretched as far as she could without making obvious her intentions. She glanced up at Tremont, saw he was still busy controlling every part of the ship, and made a small, subtle lean towards the helm. Still, the handle was centimeters out of her reach. Farther… a little more…  
  
She lost her balance and fell over. Tremont jumped up from the station and grabbed Ligeia by the arms. He pulled her up roughly and threw her down again meters away from where she'd been before. Her stomach reeled in pain as Tremont's boot landed with force in the middle of her stomach.  
  
Uhura took her chance. While Tremont was dealing with Ligeia's distraction, she leapt off the floor and sat down in the Navigator's seat. Furiously working the controls, she tried to undo Tremont's damage. Before she could do anything significant, he was upon her, yanking her out of the chair. Uhura's arm bumped a button as she fell, causing the ship to buck violently. They fell to the floor, Tremont crushing her with the force of his fall. Tremont pushed himself up and stabilized the ship. Once the floor leveled, he pulled a long string out of his pocket.  
  
"I should have done this earlier, but I thought you ladies"- he said the word as if it were an insult- "deserved to keep your dignity. I now see that I was wrong." Tremont walked over to Ligeia, who had propped herself up on one arm and clutched her stomach with the other. He grabbed her supporting arm and dragged her over to Uhura's side. He carefully yet forcefully tied their hands together, then their feet. Uhura and Ligeia were completely unable to move without taking the other with them.  
  
Just as he tied the final knot at Uhura's ankle, the communication inset at Tremont's panel beeped. "Bridge, this is Kirk. Report."  
  
The three of them held their breath.  
  
Tremont gazed at Uhura, then said, "Don't view this as an accomplishment, Miss Uhura. You've only succeeded in making me declare my intentions earlier than planned. It will in no way alter the fate of you or this vessel." He rose and returned to his panel. Touching a button, he said, "Bridge. Tremont here."  
  
"Trouble on the bridge, Ensign?" Kirk asked. He sounded as if he'd just been awakened.  
  
Malachi Tremont smiled coolly. "No sir. Everything is under my control."  
  
The nuance escaped the drowsy captain. "What caused the turbulence a moment ago? I was in the middle of a dream."  
  
"Everything is under my control, captain," replied the Ensign.  
  
Kirk finally seemed to catch on. "Who's on duty tonight? Let me speak to the Duty officer."  
  
"I've relieved Miss Ford and Miss Uhura. Now, Captain, I believe I've given you all you need to know. Goodnight." He cut the connection in the middle of Kirk's angry reply. Tremont smiled sardonically at his captives, then opened a shipwide channel.  
  
"Good evening, fellow crewmembers, or maybe I should say good morning. This is Malachi Tremont, whom most of you know as night-watch navigator. What you don't know is that I'm also an agent in the Vivalian Liberation League. The League is dedicated to advancing the Glorious Vivalian Revolution and the establishment of a new Vivalian government where the rights of the people shall not be hindered by out-dated, repressive, and discriminatory dogma meant to suppress the Will of the People.  
  
"I believe it was the Earthman Thomas Jefferson who wrote that government should be established by a mandate from the People. The vaunted Federation operates on the principle that all beings, humanoid or alien, male or female, black, white, or purple, are guaranteed the right to instate their own government and the right to remove that government should the needs of the People fail to be met.  
  
"For years the League has struggled with the oppression of the Vivalian People. Our meetings have been broken up. Our buildings bombed. Our equipment sabotaged. The Vivalian 'government' used force against group of League demonstrators participating in a protest. How long must the People be suppressed? How long must we submit to a tyrannical mockery of justice? How long must we wait for our freedom?  
  
"With this ship, the League can overthrow the tyranny that passes for government on Vivali. Carefully placed Phaser blasts can take out government installations with minimal harm to the People. The League will quickly seize control. Then, and only then, will I surrender.  
  
"On the bridge with me, I have Lieutenant Uhura and Lieutenant Ford. They are my hostages. If there is an effort to stop this ship or reclaim control, I will kill them. That won't make for a pretty scene. So it is in your best interest to sit back and enjoy the ride."  
  
Tremont cut the channel, then sat back in the navigator's chair, seeming pleased with himself.  
  
Ligeia pulled at the ties on her wrist, but it merely succeeded in pulling Uhura's arms a little. The two women were stuck. 


	3. Beyond this Place of Wrath and Tears

The Captain of my Soul  
  
Chapter 3: Beyond this place of Wrath and Tears  
  
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In the Deck 5 briefing room, the air was thick with tension. Yet no one displayed their fears in a manner that would be detrimental to the situation. They were entirely too professional for that.  
  
Kirk rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Scotty, is there any way to override the lock on Auxiliary Control?"  
  
Scotty sighed. "Not without completely ruining th' circuitry. I've been over the diagrams time and time again, and obviously Tremont has too. There isna way to undo the lock without serious damage to the systems."  
  
"Spock?" Kirk asked, glancing at the Vulcan.  
  
"Affirmative, Captain. Tremont has been thorough in his research," replied Spock. "He has also shorted out the communications systems and all turboshafts. The only way to get from deck to deck is through the ladderways."  
  
"Let's keep those reserved for officers and maintenance crews. I don't want them to get crowded," said Kirk. He turned back to Scotty. "If we can't use Auxiliary control, is there any other way to stop the ship?"  
  
"Nothing short of disabling the engines," answered Scotty.  
  
Kirk thought for a long moment, then began speaking again. "Prepare to disable engines in approximately one standard hour."  
  
"Sir!" Scotty said, bewildered. "If we disable the engines we'll be a sitting duck!"  
  
"Only the warp engines, Scotty. We'll still have impulse," Kirk answered, trying to reassure his engineer.  
  
Scotty looked both shocked and betrayed in the same expression. "Is that an order, sir?"  
  
"Yes, Scotty, it is. I'm sorry."  
  
The Scotsman seemed as if he'd lost his best friend. "Aye, sir," he answered in a small voice.  
  
Kirk turned to the rest of the officers. "Any questions, gentlemen?" There were none. "All right. We'll reconvene in an hour and a half." Everyone else rose to leave, but Kirk remained seated. Spock noticed, and stayed behind, his hands clasped behind his back.  
  
Kirk, lost in his reverie, didn't notice right away. Spock cleared his throat.  
  
Pulled from his daydream, Kirk looked up. "Yes, Spock?"  
  
"Is something bothering you, Captain?"  
  
Kirk laughed. "Yes, Spock, 'something' is bothering me." He stood. "How could this have happened? I thought I knew this crew well enough. I know everything that goes on aboard this ship."  
  
"In a crew of 429, Captain, it is illogical to assume you know everyone."  
  
Kirk leaned against the edge of the table. "I should. I'm the captain."  
  
The Vulcan remained silent.  
  
Kirk sighed. He'd been dreaming of a beautiful blonde with legs… "What's on your mind, Spock?"  
  
"It is illogical to disable our only means of timely escape."  
  
"You mean the engines? I disagree."  
  
"The problem will not be solved."  
  
"No, but some of the variables will be eliminated. How would you go about solving the problem?" asked Kirk.  
  
Spock unclasped his hands. "You ARE the captain."  
  
The statement spoke volumes. Kirk stood up. "Let's just focus on the engines. We'll figure out the rest when we meet again."  
  
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On the bridge, Lts Uhura and Ford were getting pretty sick of the situation. Ligeia's wrists were beginning to ache from being tied so tightly to Uhura. Laying on her right side, she could just barely see Tremont seated at the Navigator's station. Of course, she had to crane her neck to see above Uhura's small body, but Ligeia was convinced that the situation would change quickly. She had an idea.  
  
Ligeia twisted her wrist around, wincing as the rope rubbed her arm raw. She stopped when her hand was cupped into Uhura's palm. Using the old Sign Language alphabet, Ligeia began to spell.  
  
O-N M-Y A-N-K-L-E, she spelled. G-U-N. S-H-O-O-T.  
  
Understanding dawned in the other woman's eyes. She nodded. Slowly, discreetly, the two officers reached toward Ligeia's ankle and awkwardly pried loose the old revolver from its holster. Uhura rolled onto her back, pulling Ligeia on top of her. They pointed the revolver, carefully, quietly. Ligeia pulled the trigger.  
  
Tremont's reflexes were good, but not quite perfect. The shot glanced his right arm. Howling in pain, Tremont fell out of the Navigator's chair and crouched on his knees, clutching his arm. Ligeia trained the revolver on him and pulled the trigger again.  
  
Nothing. She'd forgotten that she only carried one bullet.  
  
A million expletives marched through Ligeia's mind as she dropped the revolver to the floor. Tremont glared at them, all his hate and anger boiling over in his eyes. Ligeia and Uhura frantically rolled, one over the other, in their futile attempt to get away. Tremont stalked over to them, each step ominously echoing through the floor panels.  
  
For a man with an injured right arm, Tremont demonstrated unbelievable strength. He reached down and picked up both women by their ties. He slung them across the bridge.  
  
As they sailed through the air, Ligeia thought, I'm dead, this is it, goodbye world…  
  
They made contact with the viewscreen with enough force to crack it. Uhura just happened to be on the wall side when they struck. Her head flew back in whiplash and knocked against the wall. Uhura's eyes rolled back in her head as she lost consciousness. They slid to the floor, and Uhura's dead weight crushed against Ligeia.  
  
Malachi Tremont knelt beside them and pulled out a knife. The silver blade glinted in the bulkhead lights. Ligeia suddenly understood the meaning of the phrase 'scared to death'. She had never been so afraid in her life.  
  
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought, thinking of how little time she'd spent with Pavel lately.  
  
Tremont grabbed her wrist, and Ligeia squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation. Oh god…  
  
Instead of killing her, Tremont cut the string around her wrists. Ligeia's eyes flew open in surprise.  
  
"What… what are you doing?" she asked, once she found her voice.  
  
He didn't answer. Quickly, Tremont unwound Ligeia's wrists and rolled Uhura off of her. Ligeia flexed her sore arms while Tremont retied the unconscious Communications officer independent of Ligeia.  
  
Ligeia gazed at her captor, and suddenly became very angry. Tremont began to stand, but Ligeia's left arm grabbed the back of his neck, restricting his movement. Her right arm curled into a fist and struck his face.  
  
He grabbed her arm and yanked it from behind his neck. Her right hand clawed at his face, but he pulled it away and held both her small wrist in his large right hand. With his left, he hit her. Again, and again. Ligeia lost count. She literally saw stars, and the viewscreen wasn't even engaged.  
  
Just before she dropped into blessed unconsciousness, she felt him dragging her across the floor. Tremont grabbed her by the hair and shook her head back and forth. Ligeia reluctantly came to her senses as he picked her off the floor and dropped her—hard—into the Navigator's chair.  
  
"Fly!" he yelled. Without further instructions, he turned back to Uhura, still tied to Ligeia's feet. He began kicking the other woman. Ligeia heard ribs crack.  
  
"STOP IT!" she screamed. "LEAVE HER ALONE!"  
  
Tremont turned back to Ligeia. "Stay out of this," he spat.  
  
"She didn't do anything to you! I'm the one who shot you!" Ligeia yelled at the top of her lungs. Her lip was bleeding, her head felt as if it were about to explode. All she wanted was to sleep, to pass out, to forfeit her consciousness and get off this rollercoaster…  
  
"FLY THE SHIP!" screamed Tremont. He pulled the forgotten phaser from some unknown pocket and thrust it into her face.  
  
Ligeia didn't even care anymore. "No," she whispered. "No!"  
  
"I'll kill you, I swear I will! FLY!"  
  
The lines from an ancient Earth poem popped into Ligeia's head. She smiled tightly. "I am the master of my fate." Ligeia chuckled, then yelled as loud as she could. "I AM THE CAPTAIN OF MY SOUL!"  
  
Her captor fumed. "Right. You asked for it." Tremont grabbed her head to hold it steady. "You don't deserve to die for the Cause," he said, his face resolute.  
  
Suddenly they were thrown forward. Tremont tripped over Uhura's body and fell to the floor. Ligeia was slammed against the helm.  
  
When they steadied, she checked her gauges. The warp engines didn't register. They didn't read inoperative, just didn't read at all. Ligeia pushed a few buttons but received the same response. She glanced up, and Tremont was stalking over.  
  
"I didn't do it!" she said. "I swear!"  
  
He glared at her. "I don't have time to kill you now." He pushed her from the chair and sat down, working the controls.  
  
Ligeia gazed at her unconscious friend, then reached out and stroked her beautiful hair. Ligeia coughed, and saw blood. She sank into merciful darkness.  
  
~!~!~!~!~!~!~  
  
In the Engine room, Scotty's hands lingered over the controls.  
  
"Engines disabled, sir," he said sadly.  
  
Kirk put his arm on the Chief Engineer's shoulder. "Thank you, Scotty. I'm sorry. It had to be done."  
  
Scotty nodded. "Aye."  
  
As the captain left the room, he heard Scotty's faint whisper.  
  
"Och, me poor wee bairns…"  
  
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Author's Note: Thank you for your support so far. Next chapter will be uploaded as soon as it is finished.  
  
~Copyright March, 2002, by May Solo~ 


	4. Out of the Night that Covers Me

The Captain of My Soul  
  
Chapter 4: Out of the Night that Covers Me  
  
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Cold.  
  
Lt Ligeia Ford slowly opened her eyes and tried to roll over. Her ankles refused to roll. Confused, she lifted her head and looked down before remembering she was still tied to Uhura. Ligeia sighed and lay back on the cold bulkhead.  
  
Beside her, Uhura moaned in her sleep. The other woman's face was already swollen. Her wrists were raw, and her nose was bleeding. A wave of guilt washed over Ligeia. She forced herself to swallow it.  
  
At the helm, Tremont sat nearly motionless, with his eyes closed and his hands beneath his armpits. His breath blew frosty clouds in front of him. A bright red stain ran down the length of his gold shirtsleeve. Ligeia was surprised at his apparent lack of attention.  
  
She cleared her throat. Tremont didn't notice.  
  
"Hey," she said weakly. No response. He was asleep!  
  
Stupid dork, she thought. Taking over a starship and then falling asleep! Ligeia pushed herself into a semi-sitting/crouching position, wincing against the pain. When this was over, she was going to pay a nice long visit to Dr McCoy. Ligeia leaned on her right hand and furiously untied the rope around her ankles with her left.  
  
When she was free, Ligeia sat for a moment, rotating her sore ankles and vowing to soak her feet every evening for a week. She slowly pulled herself up against the railing, then stumbled over to where Tremont sat at the Navigator's chair.  
  
How dare he sit in her Pavel's chair! thought Ligeia, feeling a new surge of anger. Malachi Tremont wasn't worthy enough to lick Pavel Chekov's boots.  
  
Ligeia paused a moment a few feet away from the station to rid herself of the anger—temporarily. When she was certain she could proceed without wringing Tremont's neck, she began again. Coming up on the opposite side of the helm, she peered upside-down at the gauges. Warp was still 'gone'. They were proceeding at sublight. All stations were still slaved into Navigation. Life support was nonfunctional. Ligeia didn't know if just the bridge was cut off, or if the entire ship was an ice cube.  
  
She wondered if it was Tremont's last-ditch effort, or if Scotty had disabled it.  
  
First things first. Ligeia quietly reached down and flipped a button, then quickly stepped up to the Communications console. She slid Uhura's earpiece into her own ear. It sat somewhat awkwardly, as it was molded for Uhura's smaller anatomy. Ligeia crouched down near to the microphone, and pushed a few more buttons.  
  
"Bridge, Lieutenant Ford here. If anyone can hear me, please respond, over."  
  
A few seconds passed, and then the sweetest sound in all the galaxy came blasting full volume into her left ear. "Bridge, this is Kirk. Report."  
  
Ligeia almost shouted in relief, then remembered the sleeping saboteur at the helm. "Oh, Jim, I never thought I'd be so happy to hear your voice in my head!" she said. Ligeia had never been one for formality. "Warp is out, life-support gone, it's so cold in here…"  
  
"Yes, Lieutenant, I ordered Mr Scott to disable the warp engines and subsequently the bridge life-support. How are you holding up?"  
  
Subconsciously, Ligeia glanced at Uhura, still prostrate on the floor. "Lieutenant Uhura is pretty bad off, she's been unconscious for I-don't- know-how-long. We broke the view screen. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about the view screen, Lieutenant. Is Tremont—"  
  
A large fist slammed down on the console. Ligeia jumped, then met a pair of angry eyes. Tremont knocked the earpiece from her head and yanked her out of the chair. He pulled out his phaser and shot a large hole in the console where the microphone used to be.  
  
Tremont turned towards her, and Ligeia sensed the need to get away. She scrambled crab-walk style around the outer layer of the bridge and was almost to the view screen before he caught up with her. Tremont wrapped his large hands around her neck and yanked her into a standing position, then slammed her against the bulkhead. She could feel the rough calluses on his palms rubbing against her neck.  
  
"I owe you a death," he snarled. "Don't think of it as a victory or a release. You'll burn in hell for all of eternity for hindering the will of the People." With his right arm, he pulled the knife from behind his back. Ligeia tried to fight him off with her hands, but it was futile. He was much stronger, and tightened his grip around her neck. Ligeia's vision began to tunnel. Tremont pulled back with the knife, preparing to thrust…  
  
A muffled thud echoed across the room. Tremont paused mid-lunge.  
  
"What's that?" he demanded. Ligeia tried to shrug, but couldn't really move in the awkward position she was in.  
  
Another thud. Tremont's eyes flew from side to side, scanning the bridge. Uhura was still laying on the floor… with her hands untied.  
  
They'd still been tied in front of her when Ligeia had gotten up.  
  
With the third thud, the bulkhead adjacent to the turbolift flew open, exposing the ladder way. A team of heavily armed security guards jumped out, followed by Kirk, Spock, and Scotty.  
  
Tremont swung around, pulling Ligeia in front of him, using her as a shield. He positioned the knife at her throat.  
  
"STAY BACK!" he yelled. "I'll kill her!"  
  
Ligeia rolled her eyes. "Shutup and do it already!" she said.  
  
"Drop the knife, Malachi," Kirk said. The redshirts began fanning out, slowly approaching Tremont and Ligeia. Tremont backed across the circular upper level, pulling Ligeia with him.  
  
"Don't come near me!" Tremont said. For the first time during the night, his voice began to show panic. "I'm supporting the Cause!"  
  
"We know you are. Drop the knife." Kirk said.  
  
Tremont applied more pressure to the knife. Ligeia grabbed at his arm, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but couldn't find a good handhold. She was beginning to get desperate…  
  
…when suddenly Tremont went limp and slumped to the floor. Ligeia fell to her knees, grabbing her throat. When she turned around, she was surprised to find a battered, disoriented Uhura, clutching the shoe that had knocked Tremont senseless. Ligeia grinned, and although she looked like Death warmed over, Uhura grinned back.  
  
Then promptly passed out again. Ligeia took her lead and lied down. The cool bulkhead felt good against the bulldozer ramming inside her skull. Peering out of one eye, she gazed at where Tremont had fell, but she couldn't see him for all the redshirts. She closed her eyes and sighed, letting her mind relax.  
  
Eventually, she opened her eyes and gazed into Bones McCoy's clear blue ones. He passed his funny little saltshaker over her and smiled down at her. "Bones! I'm so happy to see you!" she whispered. "How's Uhura?"  
  
"She'll be fine, just a couple day's rest and she'll be good as new. That goes for you, too," he replied. "You and Miss Uhura are coming to sickbay with me, no buts about it."  
  
" 'Kay," she replied, too tired to carry on the conversation. In the back of her mind, she wondered what time it was, but couldn't find the strength or will to ask…  
  
~!~!~!~!~!~!~  
  
The gymnasium was jam packed with crewmen from every section of the bridge. In the far corner, a fake Christmas tree towered over the partygoers. Normally Ligeia Ford was the life of the party. Tonight, just a week after the encounter with Tremont, Ligeia viewed the festivities as a detached observer, standing against the wall near the makeshift bar. Chekov stood next to her, casually sipping his drink and carrying on a conversation with someone from the Chem lab whose name she couldn't remember. Ever so often, he would gaze at her, then launch back into another explanation of a "Russian inwention" that was really invented in China or Britain. The other man didn't seem to know that everything Pavel talked about was originally inwented in Russia.  
  
She'd smile at him, then return her gaze to the crowd and let her mind drift. Ever since she'd been released from Sick Bay, he'd been hovering over her like a worried parent, asking her how she was, if she was tired, did she feel up to something, etc.  
  
Ligeia didn't exactly mind. It felt nice to have someone hovering over her.  
  
Uhura sat down on a makeshift stool in front of the bar and ordered a drink. The other woman's face was still slightly swollen, and she wore a bandage beneath her right eye, but the Communications officer was in the best of spirits. Ligeia walked up to her and sat down.  
  
"Hey, babe, how ya feelin?" she asked.  
  
Uhura smiled back. "Much better. Doctor McCoy says I can return to duty tomorrow."  
  
"That's great!" Ligeia said, genuinely pleased. "How's your shoe?"  
  
They laughed. "McCoy's keeping it in sickbay for further observation," Uhura responded wryly. She took a sip from her drink, then turned serious again. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Ligeia shrugged. "Alright, I guess. Not really in the mood for a party."  
  
Scotty came up to her from behind the bar. "You need a drink, lass, and then you'll be in the mood for a party."  
  
Ligeia feigned shock. "A drink?!? Are you encouraging your subordinates to partake in alcoholic beverages, Mr Scott?"  
  
"I am indeed, it will do ya good now an' then." Scott crossed his arms and leaned against the bar. Ligeia could just catch a glimpse of his Scottish kilt beneath his dress shirt. "So. Will ya be havin' a Scotch, or are ya gonna sit around and complain?"  
  
She smiled back at him. "Do I have to put on my dress?"  
  
Scotty's jaw dropped. "This is a genuine Scottish kilt! It is not a dress, and as the good Scotsman that I am, I take offense to your suggestion!" He finished his tirade with a wink, then walked off to discuss something or other with the Captain, who was making eyes at some blonde from Linguistics.  
  
She turned back to Uhura. "Tremont's being transferred to Starbase 4 for trial. We'll almost certainly be called to testify."  
  
The other woman shrugged, and set down her drink. "Well, I could use a good shopping trip, and Starbase 4 has a particularly nice shopping center. You game?"  
  
Ligeia smiled back. "I'll get back to you." She slid off the stool and threw a glance at Pavel, who was still chatting away with the Chem crewman. Turning her back on the party, Ligeia strolled through the empty corridors of the Fleet's greatest ship.  
  
She hadn't meant to go anywhere in particular, but eventually found herself in the observation deck. Ligeia crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned against the large window, gazing at the cosmos, drinking in the wonder of the universe. Inevitably, her thoughts drifted towards her terrifying experience the week before, and just how lucky she'd been to survive it.  
  
Ligeia felt a strong pair of arms encircle her. She leaned her head back and caught the familiar scent of her favorite Russian. "Hey," she said.  
  
He kissed her neck. "Hi. You left before ve got to the part about the discovery of the nucleus. It vas done in Leningrad, you know."  
  
Ligeia laughed. "Do you have any idea how many times you say that? You're becoming a living cliché."  
  
"I aim to please. This vay, people vill quote me after I'm gone."  
  
Ligeia forced a small laugh. "Watch out. You may become more infamous than famous. What if you win some kind of medal, and the only way they can remember you is by 'it was inwented in Russia?'"  
  
"There's nothing wrong vith pride." He tightened his grip. They gazed at the stars for a long moment. "Vat are you thinking?" asked Pavel.  
  
She didn't answer for a while. Finally, she said, "I'm thinking how incredibly insignificant everything is."  
  
"Vat do you mean?"  
  
She fidgeted. "Look outside. Look at the stars. They've been here for billions of years, and they will be here for billions of years to come. Nothing that we do will make a difference in the long run. Governments won't matter. People won't matter. Rebellions won't matter."  
  
"That's really bothering you, isn't it?" he asked.  
  
She sighed heavily. "Of course it's bothering me. He tried to kill me for something that, in a billion years, won't really matter."  
  
"You can't predict the future," said Pavel. "You don't know if it vould have mattered or not. If Tremont had succeeded in his mission, he could have started a war. Or his little cult could have taken power. Any vay you cut it, people vould have died. That matters, doesn't it?"  
  
Ligeia nodded.  
  
"You're right," Pavel continued. "Nothing matters to the stars. But that shouldn't be a depressing thought. It's a sign that there is still hope, still something to fight for. Even the most oppressed people can look into the sky, see the stars, and know that there is a reason to fight for freedom, so that in a billion years their children will be free."  
  
He paused for a moment. "And that's where we come in. It is our responsibility, as members of Starfleet, to protect freedom. To ensure that everyone receives right to be free, and the right to due process, vich is vhy we can't let cossacks like Tremont have their vay. Like the poem says, 'I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.' We must protect everyone's right to life, so that in a billion years there vill still be stars to look at, to dream of, to long for."  
  
Ligeia turned her head, resting her forehead on his cheek. "I didn't know you'd read that poem," she said.  
  
Pavel pretended to be offended. "Of course I read it! I read everything you give me."  
  
She reached up with her right hand and pulled his head towards hers, kissing him. "I love you," she whispered.  
  
He kissed her back, forcefully. "I'll always love you."  
  
~!~!~!~!~!~!~  
  
Well, what did you think? Love it, like it, dislike it, hate it vehemently? Review it and let me know! 


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